June, 1919 
FOREST AND STREAM 
269 
exerting his giant strength, he came up 
the creek like a motor-boat, and in spite 
of our heroic efforts, passed Andy and 
me as if we were standing still, and was 
at our destination, before we were half 
way across the pond. 
The Squire derisively shouted as he 
passed us, “Now see me row.” Here on 
the north shore, we put out our decoys, 
and pulled up our boats, which we 
quickly covered with duck grass and 
reeds, then Peter left us, going across 
the meadow, and wading the creek at 
the landing. 
As I have stated, this was the Squire’s 
first experience in duck shooting, and 
he had never been in a sneak box be- 
fore, so he asked for advice as to what 
he should do, etc. I told him to lie down 
in his boat and keep down, and I would 
tell him when to shoot if any ducks 
came. 
Pretty soon a pair of dippers came 
into the pond from the south, and work- 
ing up slowly against the heavy wind, 
saw our decoys and came in. Just as 
they were over the outside decoys, I 
said, “Now!” and Andy and I rose and 
killed them. At the report of the guns 
the Squire popped up out of his box 
and asked, “What you shooting at?” and 
when he saw the dead ducks he said, 
“So that’s how you do it.” Hereafter 
the Squire sat up and took notice, and 
he would not lie down again. 
After a short wait a single black duck 
came in. He was shy and after coming 
almost close enough, paid off a little 
with the wind, and we up and poured 
it into him, and sagging off he fell dead 
near the center of the pond. I sprang 
from the boat, and started to wade out 
after him, while the Squire frantically 
called for me to come back. He was 
afraid I would get in deep water and 
be drowned, but the Crab Pond was one 
of my favorite shooting spots, and I 
knew every foot of its bottom, having 
waded it scores of times. 
When I brought the duck in, I ex- 
plained it all to the Squire, and in a 
few seasons he became fully acquainted 
with all of the “tricks of the trade.” As 
we sat talking, a flock of sheldrakes 
came over the meadow from behind us, 
flying before the wind like bullets, and 
seeing our decoys, circled and came back 
to us, giving us a fine shot, and we killed 
four of them, one of which fell to the 
Squire, putting him in very good humor. 
Just as we were about to take up the 
decoys, a pair of black ducks came in, 
and heading up to the wind, were about 
to drop into the decoys, giving us a 
beautiful shot, and we bagged the pair. 
Then with the gale at our backs, we 
quickly crossed the pond, and were at 
the landing again, where we fastened 
our boats securely, put on the hatches 
and made all “snug” for the tide was 
rising fast, and the wind blowing harder 
than ever. 
W HEN we reached the house with 
our nine ducks, we found a new 
arrival, Mr. John S. Pittenger 
who had reached the house in our ab- 
sence, and we made him welcome to our 
party, as became all true duck hunters. 
After a hearty supper we repaired to 
the sitting room, and pulled our chairs 
in a half circle before the great fire 
place, where a splendid fire was burn- 
ing, which was greatly appreciated after 
our exposure to the strong wind. 
As we sat talking, there came a lull 
in the gale; for the space of a few sec- 
onds, all was still. Then the heavens 
•were rent asunder, and the delayed tem- 
pest burst upon us with all its fury, 
the rain descended in torrents and 
dashed furiously against the windows. 
Great limbs were torn from the writh- 
ing willow trees and blown away like 
autumn leaves. Loose bricks from the 
chimney stack came tumbling down into 
the fire place, and with a rending crash, 
the great silver maple at the southwest 
corner of the house was blown prostrate. 
The furious wind whirled in the chim- 
ney, and blew the smoke and cinders in 
our faces, the roaring of the hurricane 
was appalling, and the solid old house 
shook as with a palsy. 
Awed, we listened to the gigantic 
warring of the elements and then Peter 
reverently said, “God help the sailors 
of any ship that comes on shore to- 
night.” For over an hour those furious 
gusts of wind raved around the house, 
shaking it to its very foundations, and 
the “Banshee” plaintively wailed in the 
broad chimney, while we sat in subdued 
silence. Then it settled into a steady 
gale, and furious driving rain. I have 
been at Ortley’s during many a hard 
storm, but never one like that. 
As we prepared for bed, Peter said, 
“This will bring in a ‘cracking’ big tide, 
and do lots of damage.” Andy and I 
slept together, while the Squire bunked 
with Mr. Pittenger. The roaring of the 
storm had lulled me to sleep, and I was 
dreaming of great flocks of ducks pass- 
ing over, when I was suddenly awak- 
ened by a great clamor. As I sat up in 
bed, the air was filled with the din. 
It was the Squire, being unable to 
get to sleep, under the strange condi- 
tions, and surroundings, his roving eyes 
had discovered an old accordion on a 
shelf beside the bed, this he was indus- 
triously manipulating singing the while 
at the top of his voice: 
“Rocked in the cradle of the deep. 
In peace I lay me down to sleep.” 
Said Andy through the open door, 
“Squire stop that racket.” Still the old 
accordion “hehawed.” Bang! went one 
of Andy’s boots, but the Squire dodged, 
and poor innocent Mr. Pittenger, curled 
up at the back of the bed, got the boot 
with full force. Bang! went the other 
boot, to be also stopped by Mr. Pitten- 
ger. Then Andy and I arose in our 
wrath, and dragging the Squire from 
his bed, belabored him soundly, until he 
begged for mercy. He said in excuse, 
that he was sure the tide was rising, 
and would wash the house away, and 
he did not want us to be drowned in our 
sleep like rats in a hole. 
Slowly the long night passed, and at 
last morning came, the wind was still 
blowing a gale, but the rain had ceased. 
True to Peter’s prediction a great tide 
had come in, and was still rising, the 
meadows were all under water, and our 
boats, which we had left stranded at the 
landing, were tugging at their anchors 
in the heavy wind. As it grew lighter, 
we took stock of our surroundings. 
The house with the exception of a few 
bricks from the chimney tops, and a few 
panes of glass blown in, was intact, but 
the great willow trees, a land mark for 
many years, were badly damaged; their 
great limbs were strewn to the landing 
and beyond, and they never recovered 
from the ravages of that storm. 
A fter breakfast, Peter took the 
Squire back to the Crab Pond, and 
fixed him in a tall reed bunch, near 
the northern outlet, while Andy and I 
started out for the best spot we could 
find above water. We finally decided on 
Gabes Point. This point was slightly 
higher than the others, and had a thicket 
of marsh elders at the shore edge, so we 
decided to place our sneak boxes in these 
marsh elders, which would break the seas. 
Putting out a few decoys, we were ready 
and soon a number of ducks began to fly. 
(CONTINUED ON PAGE 312 ) 
Jim Robbins and his Bamegat Bay ducking punt in action off Sandy Island 
